


Hiding tears

by lorb



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blood Gulch Chronicles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15223442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorb/pseuds/lorb
Summary: Following orders, Simmons goes off on a journey to find Grif around the base. He finds him curled up in bed, and this time he isn't asleep. He's been crying.Funny (not sad) one-shot based off the prompt "You've been crying, haven't you?"





	Hiding tears

His orders had been clear: find Grif and check out what the blues were doing. It was impossible to mistake the orders at this point though. Everyday Sarge commanded Simmons to "scope out the enemy... and find that lazy ass, I hate it when he might be enjoying himself!" So it left Simmons to search out Grif's normal hiding spots.

He wasn't sleeping in the warthog, wasn't eating stockpiled rations in the pantry, wasn't smoking in the blind spot behind the base. The only other place he could be was their rock, the one no one else knew about and was so well hidden even Simmons could let loose (or what counted for loose to Simmons, which was allowing Grif to really cut loose and for Simmons to kiss less figurative ass). It was also the place where the two fooled around during the day. 

Simmons was really hoping that it would be one of those days. In fact, he was hoping so much he started removing pieces of armor as he got close to the rock. Normally they left signals that would lead the other to their destination, and the aforementioned fooling around, but maybe Simmons had missed it?

"Alright Lard ass, you better be ready to give... it... Grif?" Simmons trailed off as he realized their spot was vacant. He was left standing awkwardly, and painfully obviously, alone with his helmet in his hands and his pants at his ankles. Embarrassment hit him like a brick and he hastily heaved his pants and armor back on.

So where was his orange counterpart? What was a Simmons without a Grif? Well, right then alone and pretty damn horny. Not to mention on order to find Grif, and Simmons always followed his orders.

 

"Hey! Hey Simmons! I saw your butt!... why did you have your butt out?" Caboose hollered from a comfortable distance, but apparently close enough to cement Simmons mortification.

"I didn't!" Since it was Caboose, maybe his quick reflex to deny his faults would actually result in success for once. "That was Grif. You saw Grif's ass not mine."

"Huh," Caboose was still shouting. "I didn't think Grif would have a pancake butt."

"I DON'T HAVE- he doesn't have a pancake butt. It was a very nice butt." Simmons couldn't believe he was yelling to Caboose about asses.

"Ok! I will tell Tucker that you said Grif has a nice butt!"

Simmons sighed. It wasn't worth the trouble. Tucker would definitely tell Grif and Grif would definitely mock Simmons, but at the end of the day it wouldn't have been worth it.

"Is blue team up to anything Caboose?" Simmons knew he could trust Caboose because he had no filter. Just pure, unfiltered nonsense. Whatever was happening over there would be reported back in a slightly more confusing way. He also figured it would mean he could gauge how much time he could spend with Grif once he found him. If Caboose had nothing to say, then they could spend the whole day behind their rock with minimal clothing. If Caboose had something to say... well he could cross that bridge when he came to it. But it'd probably be the same old same old blue garbage. Talking and fighting with each other and crazy girlfriends and aliens. The reds could stay out of it.

"Ah, well no... just going to blow up red team base. But they sent me all the way over here! To scout for red team! And make sure I stay on the other side of the base! You know, the usual stuff."

"Huh," Simmons thought for a moment. "Eh, fuck it. Have fun." He walked back toward his red team base and then a thought struck him, "Hey Caboose, Church told me to ask you to get really involved in the plan. Like, get super involved. Get both your hands really deep in that plan and make sure everything gets good and.... Caboosey."

"Wow! Thank you Simmons! I will do that! Goodbye!" He retreated with Simmons' eyes on his back, shaking his head.

 

_ Now back to finding Grif.  _ Using his fingers to check them off, Simmons recanted all the places Grif might be.  _ Moron! _ He chided himself for not checking it first, but Simmons knew where he would find Grif. He head back to base and up to the bunk section. Normally they slept in the same little alcove but technically Grif had a bed of his own at the other side of the section. Sometimes Simmons would snore and Grif would leave or maybe Grif would wake up hungry and not want to bother Simmons with his snacking and go to his bed. Whatever the reason, it was bad practice that Simmons hadn't checked there first. And sure enough, Grif was curled in bed, with his back toward Simmons.

"Grif! I should probably ask where you've been or what you've been doing, but at this point- whoa" Simmons was startled as Grif turned around more quickly than he normally moved, and shoved something under the covers. His eyes were incredibly red. "You've been doing weed again! You know how irresponsible it is to do when we're supposed to be on patrol! Drugs are not the answer! It's horrible for your health and MY organs, oh god, my organs are going to die because of drugs. My organs! Grif you can't do weed."

"You caught me. I've been shooting up pot." Grif's response was clearly sarcastic but it was unclear if Simmons had picked up on it. However, he did notice that Grif was missing his normal bitter conviction. Simmons moved closer, Grif’s face looked wet.

"Are you... sweating?"

"Yep. Sweating and snorting a blunt."

"You don't snort a blunt." Simmons rolled his eyes.

"Yeah and you dont shoot up weed, genius."

“Wait,” Simmons took yet another step toward Grif. “you've been crying, haven't you?" Simmons entire body language changed. He became more fluid and sat beside his partner, putting a hand on his back and opening the other arm wide, waiting for Grif to fall into his chest.

"Fuck off man." Of course Grif did not fall into his chest. He rolled Simmons' hand off his back and stood up. "It doesn't matter." He sniffed a final time and rubbed the back of his arm against his face trying to remove any evidence that he had been crying.

"Grif, I'm always here for you. What are you upset about?" Simmons waited but Grif didn't say anything but he sure did look upset again. "I can cover for you man. You can stay here, I'll do all your work. Sarge will trust me if I vouch for you." At this Grif perked up. "But! You have to tell me what's going on."

At Simmons condition, Grif's eyes centered on the floor, than the wall, than the other wall, and back to the floor. Simmons waited not so patiently.

"Is it your family? Sometimes I cry when I think about my family."  _ Probably not for the same reason but… _

"Yes! That was it. Good ole ma, sad she's gone. Thanks for taking my jobs Simmons, you're the real man, mvp, superstar." Grif jumped to it.

Simmons' suspicion was peaked. He put his other hand down on the bed and heard the crunching of papers. "What the..." Simmons lifted the covers.

"I have bathroom duty today! No take backs!" Grif was out the door much too quick as Simmons pulled the papers out.

It was an old magazine ad for McDonald's. The edges were well worn, Grif had clearly spent many hours looking at it. It was a bit wet, was this... is this why Grif was crying?  _ That fat fucking BASTARD _ .

Simmons chased him down, hollering after the lazy soldier. It was easy to catch up to him and when he did, he grabbed a hold of Grif's shoulders and spun him around shoving the ad in his face.

"You were crying over fast food?!" Simmons shook the ad for emphasis. Grif stared at the hamburger on the front page and his eyes started to tear up.

"Look at its cheese slices, so yellow and crisp! And all of that lettuce, with a bun in the middle?! Its a work of art Simmons." A tear loosed itself from his eye.

"You have got to be kidding me." Simmons knew Grif wasn't that good of an actor. The tear was real.

"Simmons when will we ever get another big mac? We just don't know!" He ripped the ad from Simmons' hand and pulled it tight to his chest, as though protecting it from Simmons. More than a few tears were on his cheek.

"You're an idiot." Simmons let go of Grif's shoulders. "You're still going on patrol with me and I'm not cleaning the bathroom for you!" He stuck an indignant finger in Grif's face. Simmons huffed an angry breath and spun off muttering under his breath, leaving Grif in the hallway clutching the ad and crying absurd tears. He turned to look at him. "PUT YOUR ARMOR ON! LET'S GO."

"Asshole..." Grif held up a middle finger behind his back as he went to get suited up.

Simmons was still flabbergasted at the incident but he made a note to learn how to make an imitation big mac for their next date.


End file.
